FLYING SANTAS

Jesus had it easy. He didn’t need to put up Christmas decorations. Don’t get me wrong, I love our house at Christmas. It is filled with sparkling colors, freshness and once and a while the fantastic smells of evergreen and oatmeal, with just the hint of chocolate.

Nor is the outside slighted. We put up the message we would like to share with the world. We have a large Nativity scene and a gigantic sign that says simple “Peace”. This year we added the final touch, a large angel with a trumpet that sits on our roof above the Nativity. Above it all, in our attic window. is a three foot red star my father made in 1928. Outside of the possible theological implications of shoving a 60 watt bulb up Joseph’s rear end, Beautiful!!!

Perfection!!!!

And then, just like an overzealous plumber, we cranked it a quarter turn to far. Or to be exact, our idea was good, but our execution was awful. We have looked for The Praying Santa, a statue of Santa kneeling by the Crib, for years. We have found spectacular examples from 3 to 10 inches high. Lovely, but slightly small for an outdoor display. Or one spectacular outdoor staue for a mere $3600.

Then, we found it. The perfect looking , four foot tall outdoor display, complete with 100 sparkling lights. We ordered it from the catalogue, and it arrived within several days.

Not what was expected. It was a thin plastic picture, infiltrated with a 100 tiny lights and supported with coat hanger wire, anchored to the ground with thin metal clips. When plugged in, the lights disguised it completely. No problem, we will not plug it in. Simply light it with a flood light. I took it outside, stapled it to the ground, spread strings of colored lights around the base and set a flood light on it. Not bad.

Then, the wind started. Shortly, Santa was taking a dip in our front yard fountain. Well, it was awfully windy. Santa was set back in place. The next morning, decidedly wind free, I left for a walk. Santa was visiting the next door neighbors. Just friendly. I retrieved him and set him back in place, double stapled this time. When I returned from my walk, Santa was trying to commit suicide by laying in the driveway until someone ran over him.

By now, the statues on the porch were starting to smirk and the angel had dropped her trumpet and grabbed her head. Revenge for those 60 watt bulbs???